


Wasted

by hygloom



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hygloom/pseuds/hygloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janna, an adolescent street urchin with a traumatic past and a substance abuse problem is living her life on the streets of Zaun. But when she steals from the wrong people, chaos ensues, and she is forced into a life that she doesn't want, at the mercy of one man. Janna/TF, TW: Drugs, SH (possibly), and suicide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Darkness is all around, save for the red glow emanates from the source of the destruction that surrounds her. Vines tear through the earth, racing towards her. If they hit, she knows she’s dead, just like her parents. A sob racks her as she catches sight of their lifeless bodies on the floor, remembering how they had been shot into the air, and how they had fallen with a sickening thud. She can’t run anymore, and the thorns are right there. Malicious laughter fills the room with an eerie echo, as the Rise of the Thorns raises her arm as if to throw something, and in one graceful movement, lets loose another wave of the deadly vines, their thorns coming into focus, so that every excruciating detail is visible. Falling to the floor, she gives up, her tiny body unable to protect her from any form of damage. She squeezes her eyes shut and hopes it won’t hurt too much. The gruesome, slithering sound of vines breaking through earth was right next to her, when she finally decides to run again. But it’s too late. It’s far, far too late. The vines are upon her, and she lets out a scream as a thorn gashes her back. Suddenly, she is knocked roughly out of the way, and she scrambles up and begins to run. Away from the thorns. Away from the evil._

 

Janna sat up, gasping for breath as her nightly torture finally ended.

_Shit. Where did I fall asleep this time?_

 

She wondered silently, taking in her surroundings. Judging by the strange noises and the biting smell of gasoline that were coming from the dark street, she was in one of the seedier areas of Zaun, where she lived. This was the type of area where you’d find assassins and thieves, or brothels and Shimmer dealers. Shimmer. The thing she both hated and needed most. It made you feel, so strongly. It just emphasized your emotions, and she needed that. She needed to feel, with nothing holding her back. Normally life was just so empty and meaningless without her parents, without friends, without a home.

_I wish I could lose control. I wish I could forget. I just want to feel good again._

 

She rubbed her back, absentmindedly, pale, shaking fingers running over the ragged scar left by the thorn 10 years ago, tracing the contours of pain long past. It was so ugly though. Healing should be a thing of beauty, not something horrible.

_Of course, rubbing corrosive Shimmer all over it isn’t making it any prettier._

 

No one would even know it was a scar from the thorns. To any common person, she just looked like an addict, scarred by the corrosive waste substance that was Shimmer.

   

Shaking her head to snap herself out the reverie, she groaned and stretched out, feeling shaky.

_I need a fix. Now._

 

Her unsteady hands went to her worn, patched, cargo pants, and slipped into the pocket, finding what she needed. The small bottle was almost empty, but there was still enough for one more rub. Putting a plastic bag over her hand, she uncapped the small bottle, with frail, chapped fingers. Tipping the remainder into her hand, she lifted up her sack-like tunic. She rubbed the Shimmer on her back and sighed in satisfaction as the familiar burning began. Colours began to fill her vision, and she could feel again. The range of emotions was a terrifying thing to someone who had never experienced them, but to Janna, they were familiar, and greeted her like an old friend. At first the colours in her mind were bright, and she experienced extreme joy, but after that, they darkened, and she was given grief, sobbing and screaming and wailing grief. No one noticed. No one cared. Not even her. At least she was feeling something. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her throat hurt from screaming. Other screams echoed hers, from outside, through the dark streets, and out of the apartments. Everyone was equal in their pain. The palette of shades of grey and black swirled through her vision, and she sobbed and laughed for hours until her exhausted body was finally given solace from the torture, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

Groaning, she was awakened by the loud, harsh sounds of peddlers trying to sell their goods on the street. Sunlight streamed in, and she sighed.

 

_It’s over. Why does it have to be over?_

 

The emptiness had returned, and she rose, feeling worthless. Rubbing her eyes, she put the empty bottle back into her pocket, and made sure that the knife strapped to her thigh was secure.

 

Careful not to hit her head on the low roof, she crept out from under the tin roof where she had fallen asleep. She wasn’t always lucky enough to find such a protected place to sleep. Too many of her nights had been spent wandering around the streets, stealing Shimmer, or valuables from gullible vendors who thought they were going to get lucky when they saw the young girl wandering around alone.

 

_Ha. Sure. Idiots._

 

It had been too long since she’d had a hit of Shimmer, she’d almost forgotten how tired it made you feel.

 

_Where am I?_

 

She wandered along the crowded street, just an urchin, nothing more. No one was going to save her: she didn’t look like she needed saving. No one was chasing her, no one was hurting her, except herself. What person in their right mind would try to save someone from themselves? She was nothing. Nothing. The words echoed through her mind as she wandered up the street. She absentmindedly reached into her pocket to fiddle with her bottle, and was immediately reminded of the fact that she had no more Shimmer. She could only go 3 days without that stuff before she got desperate to feel again. She remembered the first time she’d tried shimmer. She’d been looking for food, wandering aimlessly to find a shopkeeper who wouldn’t notice a few apples missing, when she’d wandered into a decrepit old shop, where a young, scarred, man had been selling small bottles of something. People were paying out of their asses for the stuff, and of course Janna had seen the opportunity for money, so she’d snuck in after hours, and taken 3 bottles of the stuff to sell. Curious to see what it was, she had put a bit on her finger. Worst mistake of her life. She had been 12, confused, and empty. If you give a starving person food, they’re going to want it all the time. That’s just logical. The same goes for emotion. Janna didn’t feel, and when given something that made her whole again, even if only for a brief time had seemed like the best thing in the world. Oh how wrong she was. And now she had none.

 

_I have to get money. I’m going to need a hit. Soon._

 

The sky, as always, was a dark grey from all of the smog, and the city mimicked this grim outlook. Tall concrete factory towers could be seen all around, and squalid little peddlers could be seen advertising their goods up and down both sides of the street. In Zaun, goods ranged from enslaved young children, to a night with a beautiful woman, to the bare necessities like food and drink. Being a part of the slave trade was the one fate worse than the one she faced at the moment. When she had first run away, the lure of a slavers words had seemed too good to be true. A warm bed, free food, and all she would have to do would be... well that depends on what her owner wanted her to do. Some slaves were luckier than others. Good thing she had common sense and had decided to try her luck alone. As she wandered down the street, the city was beginning to properly wake up. Shopkeepers opening their shutters, and apartment owners turning on their lights.

 

_I wish I had an apartment. Ha. Nice one Janna. You’ll never amount to enough to have a home, let alone an apartment._

 

Looking for a “good” place to beg was no easy feat, as Janna had soon discovered upon escaping from Zyra, the Rise of the Thorns. She had discovered the mystery woman’s identity from a childhood friend, who had followed her dreams and left Zaun. Her name was Jinx, and she was the only friend Janna had ever had. She had heard of the “thorn lady” as Janna described her, and told her that who she was describing sounded suspiciously like Zyra, a hermit, living in the forest, who was said to have powers of the supernatural calibre. Supernatural as in super + natural. She could control nature, and she had honed those powers to do her bidding, be it good or evil. That sounded mystic, and almost desirable. Of course, now all she wanted was drugs so, it didn’t really make a difference either way. But anyway, begging was difficult, especially as a 6 year old child, people had wanted to take her away, either to one of those orphanages/ slaughterhouses, or they had straight out asked to cut up her body “for science”

 

_Science is so overrated. Scientists are just stuck up pigs. Ugh._

 

She’d had to learn very quickly how to hide, how to run, how to lie, and how to steal. Speaking of which, a gas guzzling contraption was pushing it’s way up the street, no doubt full of techmaturgists. More importantly, rich techmaturgists, and Janna was poor.

_I’m going to get enough for a whole week of high. I deserve this. I need this._

She adjusted herself, running her pale hand through her even paler hair, and made sure that her ragged tunic wouldn’t catch on anything. The guzzler was getting nearer, and as it passed, she leapt after it, catching one of the tubes on its outside and flipping onto the roof. She burned her hand on the tube, but she didn’t care, she was working towards her Shimmer. She let herself enjoy the feeling of immortality that the polluted wind on her face gave her, before dropping onto the back before any debris could hit her in the face and proceeding to pick the lock. She had never attempted this level of lockpicking before, but she had also never been so sure of her need for the drug before.

 

_Desperate times call for desperate measures._

 

Her hair whipped out behind the machine, drawing attention to her, and also making it harder to hold on. Making sure that one hand was holding her to the back of the contraption, she fiddled with her makeshift lockpick, pricking her fingers and slicing them open due to how crude her pick was. Oh well, at least she was feeling something, even if that something was pain. Finally, she heard the telltale click meaning she was in. Glancing around through the black smoke being emitted by this selfish contraption to make sure she wasn’t being watched by anyone of importance, she slipped into the back of the truck.

She was met with the slightly surprised faces of 3 huge armed men.

 

_Shit._

_SHIT._

 

Her hand inched towards the stolen dagger strapped to her thigh, prepared to slaughter these men so escape, and to get a fix. Before she could do anything, though, one of the huge men got over his surprise and bolted forward to grab her.

“We’re taking you to the boss, girlie.” he grinned, showing her a mouth of rotten teeth and old food, his sour breath making her feel dizzy.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

Janna sat in the truck, with her hands tied behind her back, looking wistfully at her dagger which was in the hands of the second and equally ugly, large man. She was sitting on the floor of the strange contraption, that she’d heard being called a “car”, being watched by the 3 men.

 

_There’s no way I can get out of this. I’m going to die. Maybe it’s better that way._

 

The constant anxiety had her itching for drugs, and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. The largest of the 3 men was regarding this display with amusement and a hint of confusion. She glared at him, her small hands scratching at the floor behind her in a feeble attempt to steady herself. Her skin was icy, clammy, and a cold sweat had broken out on the back of her neck and was causing her hair to stick there. The swaying motion of the ‘car’ wasn’t helping at all, and she was painfully aware that she hadn’t eaten in 5 days. She caught a glimpse of her haggard reflection in the brass interior of the car and grimaced.

 

_I look like shit. How the hell am I going to convince them to let me go?_

 

Normally she would have offered to kiss them, and attack while they were vulnerable, but judging by her emaciated appearance and lack of strength, that would not work. Her eyes were huge in proportion to the hollows around them.  Her face was a deathly white colour, almost blue, and gaunt, so her bones stuck out. Her blond hair hung heavy and greasy, and her fingernails were caked with dirt. Her ribs were painfully obvious, and every few minutes she would double over from the hunger pangs. Her scar itched unbearably, and every injury she had obtained over the past 2 weeks felt like it was opening up again. Her tunic stuck to her body as blood seeped through it from past wounds, and her eye was twitching uncontrollably.

_It’s only been a day. Why the hell do I feel like this again? I’m such a fucking mess._

 

    She had no energy left to fight with, and she closed her eyes, hoping that they would just let her go. Suddenly, the largest of the men crept towards her, with his hand out as if to hit her. She flinched back from him, but he kept coming.

_What is he doing? I don’t want anyone near me! Don’t touch me._

 

Her trembling legs pushed her back until her head hit the door hard, making her dizzy. She couldn’t breathe, her airway was restricted by fright. The man, now looking slightly concerned, reached his arm out again.

 

“The boss said not to hurt you. Do you really think I’d defy his orders? I’m just trying to make sure you don’t pass out on us here.” His harsh tone only served to frighten her more.

 

“No! NO!” She shrieked as he extended his gargantuan hand a third time. Suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm and he tried to back away, falling onto his behind in the process. She looked after him, confused, before a tempest erupted and surrounded her, gray clouds crackling with electricity, but doing her no harm. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the three men pinned against the wall, looks of dread in their eyes, as the doors behind her flew open and she was flying.

 

_Flying. Wind on my face, hurting them, healing me. Flying. Terror in their faces, bliss on mine. Flying. Freedom. Happiness._

 

Janna came around about 3 hours later, lying on the side of the street, feeling disoriented but much better than she had in that car.

 

_What the hell just happened. Where am I and who were those people?_

 

Sitting up, she rubbed her aching head, picked the gravel out of her arms, and examined her surroundings.

 

_This just gets better and better._

 

She had absolutely no idea where she was, and no way to get back to somewhere she did know. Also, there was the whole thing where she was running from the creepy men she had tried to rob. She was confused as to why they were even chasing her, she hadn’t actually stolen anything from them, so they should just be grateful and leave her alone. Suddenly, a commotion ahead made her crane her neck to see what was going on, and she saw them. The three huge men were getting out of that car, looking extremely angry. They were shoving people out of the way and shouting at everyone. Her heartbeat began to speed up as she realized that she was completely exposed. Somehow she didn’t think she’d  be able to do what she had done earlier again, considering that the last time she’d done anything like that had been 10 years ago when her parents had been killed. She was consumed by the panic, and all she could think was:

 

_They can’t catch me. Not again._

 

She didn’t even care if she was overreacting. She couldn’t let anyone control her like that, it made her terrified that anyone could just snap their fingers and change her entire life. That spot was reserved for one thing, and one thing only, that being her Shimmer.

 

_I need a fix. It’s only been a few hours but I need one. I just need to forget._

 

Spots filled her vision as the terror began to consume her and she blindly ducked into the nearest shop, not caring if this got her in trouble with the ‘authorities’. Them she could run from. The creepy giants were too persistent for that to work.

 

Twisted Fate sat in his small shop, idly playing with his cards. He needed a days worth of money for the casino that night, but so far no one had bought anything from him. Doubling his money was his only goal. Of course, there was always the chance that he would lose all of his money, but he preferred not to think about that. Either way, he was starting to get a bit angry that people kept coming in, looking, and leaving. He would be content with the purchase of a single trinket, but no, of course not. All they wanted was solace from the street, not to spend any of the masses of gold he was sure they had in their pockets.  Before he could continue his musings, however, he was interrupted by a crash as a young girl burst through the door, and into his shop, staggering into the wall, breaking about 3 of his most valuable items and promptly collapsing in the shards of glass.

 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” He yelled, jumping out of his chair and rushing over to check what was broken beyond repair, and what could be salvaged. What he failed to notice, was that the one thing in the room that was broken beyond repair, was not any of his precious objects, but the girl lying on the floor. He tried to clean up as best he could, all the while yelling at the girl for her stupidity and explaining how she would have to pay for all of this. His vision and rationality were both impaired by his rage, and he didn’t notice that she wasn’t moving until he finally asked her for the money.

 

“Hey. You gonna pay up or what, ‘cause you owe me serious cash you little bit-” his eyes widened as he took in the scarlet liquid flowing from her back and legs from where she had collapsed onto the broken glass, and her consciousness (or rather, lack thereof).

 

“Shit.” was all he could say, as he reassessed the grave situation. He shouldhave thrown her out onto the street to die, he should have called someone else to take care of her. He was no good with healing, or girls, or anything but gambling and compassion was not a word typically used to describe him, but for some strange reason, he scooped the girl up in his arms and brought her to his bed, where he lay her down and made sure there was no serious harm. She had deep cuts and gashes all over her from the glass, and it was messing up his bed, but there seemed to be no shards left in her, so he didn’t need to worry too much. He took a moment to look at her face, wondering how she had come to be in his small shop, and also why she’d come crashing in like a whirlwind. She was so thin, it was unhealthy. Her face was gaunt and pale, and he doubted that it was just from the blood loss. Something had happened before she’d come here, someone had been chasing her. The expression on her face when she came in had been terror, and he wondered what had caused it. Shaking his head, he went back into the shop and cleaned up the remainder of the wreckage. That girl owed him some serious money, and she was going to give it to him.

_That must be why I kept her here. I need her money. That’s it. No other reason._

 

Sighing, he went back to sitting around aimlessly. At this point, it was about 4 in the afternoon, although the only indication of this was the clock. Zaun lived in a constant state of twilight, the brightness of the sun never visible through the many layers of smog and pollution. Twisted Fate groaned when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to go to the casino and gamble for more money tonight, since he had no money. Silently cursing the unidentified young girl for putting his profit into the negative regions, he stretched out and thought about what he could do instead. Having a girl in his bed was not exactly his idea of a bad night, but generally that kind of thing didn’t leave bloodstains all over his bed, and cost him all his gold. Or, if it did, it was in a different, more pleasurable situation. He considered going out and drinking his night and problems away, but he didn’t have the money. Money.  A rich man’s bathwater, a poor man’s medicine, it was the source of all of his problems. He heard a quiet, almost indistinguishable creaking noise coming from his room, and rushed in to find the bed bloodstained but empty, and the curtains fluttering in the cooler evening air as a flash of silvery-blonde disappeared through the window and into the alleyway. He cursed and jumped out of the window behind her without a second thought. Stupid girl. Can’t she see she’ll die without me?  She couldn’t even get to the corner of the alley behind his shop before collapsing again. He rushed over to her, and saw that she was still conscious, just barely, but that her cuts had begun to open up and seep through her already- bloodstained tunic. Exhaling, he scooped her up again, as she feebly attempted to hit him with her small, chapped hands and struggled weakly.

“Shh, I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He whispered, as he walked around to the front of the shop and carried her back to bed. She kept fighting him, and he knew that the moment he left the room, she’d try and run again. Either she would succeed, or she’d kill herself in the process, and neither of those were beneficial to him. He grabbed a length of rope, and secured her loosely to the bed so it would be more difficult for her to escape. She murmured something unintelligible and fell back into a deep sleep. Twisted Fate resigned himself to the fact that he would be making no money this afternoon, and locked up the store, returning to sit down beside her bed where he shuffled his cards aimlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Hi guys, it's Jo, I just wanted to ask you guys to bear with me with this story, because I've not written a fic in quite a long time, so it would mean a lot to me if you guys were to read and review because I'm open to suggestions! Also, the only reason I update is because of people who review, so please spend a few moments of your time to review if you liked the story, or if you didn't (constructive criticism please), it would mean a lot to me. Also, I'll be trying to update this story once a week or more often, but don't hate me if I miss a week once in a while, I've got a lot going on in my life at the moment.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the city, champions, or their lore, that all belongs to Riot games but don't hate me for using it :)


	3. Chapter 3

The grey light streaming in through the window slowly faded as Twisted Fate sat by the side of the bed, bored out of his mind. He had shuffled his faded cards so many times over the past two hours that his fingers ached, and his legs were starting to cramp up. Usually that didn’t happen; Twisted Fate liked to think he was good at anything to do with cards, so this was something new. He’d had the cards since the age of ten, when he had won them from only of the many ‘fortune tellers’ in one of the gypsy camps where he and his family had lived. He couldn’t remember which one: they had transited through so, so many in the years before he had turned 14 and chosen a different path for himself, gambling with those very cards for his passage through the luminosity of Demacia, and the filth and darkness of Noxus until he reached the (not) beautiful and alluring city of Zaun, and had had some dangerous yet fruitless experiments performed on him. He had decided to stay there 4 years ago, and hadn’t wished for the restless life of a gypsy since. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he stood up, placing the worn deck of cards down on the equally worn and rotting table, and closed the threadbare curtains. Walking out to the kitchen to find a few candles, he felt a certain sense of apprehension as the dark settled in. Who was this girl, where were her parents? What had happened to her to leave her in the state she was in? He didn’t even know what that state was. He hadn’t really been able to check anything, all he’d done was lie her down on the bed and wrap some semi-sanitary bandages around her legs to stop the bleeding. Sighing, he settled down with a quilt, and tried to close his eyes. He’d need rest for tomorrow, when his suppliers would come with new goods for the store. They were always cheating him and he hated it. Cheating was only alright if he was the one doing it, otherwise it was just annoying as hell. Grimacing, he imagined what the suppliers would do when they noticed the missing objects , especially when they realized that a young girl was the culprit. They would take her as payment, and he cringed to think of the industry into which she’d be forced. That is not to say that Twisted Fate had never taken advantage of such an industry before, but somehow he didn’t like the idea of an innocent child being carted off and taken advantage of by old men. She couldn’t be more than 13 years old...

Just as he was dozing off, a bloodcurdling scream sliced through the quiet like a blade. He jumped up, immediately searching for the source of the noise, which had not stopped or even diminished in any way, before he realized it was coming from the frail body on the bed. The girl’s eyes were wide open and unseeing, her body straining against the rope as her head thrashed from side to side. Her mouth was open, and from it poured the most primitive sound of grief and loss that Twisted Fate had ever heard. He reached over and shook her, not able to bear the sound anymore.  
“Stop. STOP. Please don’t do that. DON’T DO THAT!” The girl shrieked, still oblivious to her surroundings. A montage of images flew through his mind of what kind of experience she might be recounting, none of them particularly pleasant. He tried again, this time shaking her more roughly and shouting:  
“Hey, it’s just a dream, wake up!” She gasped, and her eyes began to see what was in front of them again.  
Janna’s eyes focused on the concerned face of a rugged man with an angular face and golden eyes looking down at her. She couldn’t think straight. The only thing she knew was that she needed a fix. Soon. Her body didn’t even register how hungry she was, or the intense physical pain of the injuries she had sustained. All she knew was that she needed to get high and forget. And that something was holding her back. She began to struggle against the bonds holding her down, while the man who had presumably put her there stood over her, watching in confusion.

Just let me go already. I need to feel alive again. I need to escape.

As if in response to her thoughts, he unwrapped the rope, and before he had time to react, she jumped out of the bed and started to run in the general direction of the exit. As she stood up, blood rushed from her head, and dark spots filled her vision. She rammed into the wall and fell over, as something trickled down her leg. Blood.

Mortality, why must you do this to me?

Before she hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her and spun her around.

“Why do you keep running away? It’s just making you weaker and I mean you no harm.” He explained in a gravelly voice.

Maybe he has money. Maybe I can steal it and buy more Shimmer. Maybe.

She meant to formulate an intelligent reply, but instead the slurred reply of:

“I needsh moneyyshh” slipped out from between her chapped lips.

Great, now I sound mentally impaired. Great plan Janna. Really intelligent.

He raised his eyebrows, and raked his eyes over, either sizing her up or checking her out. She opted for the first idea, and tried to twist out of his grasp and stand up to her full height, which simply resulted in her almost falling again. Silently cursing her weakness, she glared at him.

“I’m fine, really. Please just let me go, there’s no need to keep me here. Please.” She managed to spit out a coherent sentence. He raised one eyebrow with skepticism and gestured to her current position.

“I’m supposed to believe you can take care of yourself, when you can’t even stand up? I’m not letting you leave, I have a few questions, such as: What are you called? Do you have money with which to repay the damage you did to my shop when you came crashing in? When did you last eat? You look like a goddamn skeleton. I have others, but for now I think we’ll focus on those.”

Fuck. I broke something. Please tell me it’s not valuable. I want to steal his money, not give him more. I don’t even have money. I need Shimmer.

“I’m Janna, I’m broke, and I haven’t eaten in... 5 days? I’m sorry for breaking your things, but I really can’t be of any help so if you’d let go so I can leave...?” She responded quietly without making eye contact.

Does she really think I’m going to believe tha- Wait. 5 days? Why?  
“Why the hell haven’t you eaten in so long? Where are your parents?” The moment the word “parents” escaped his mouth, he saw terror fill her eyes, like a mouse cornered by a cat.  
“I told you, I’m broke. I don’t need food as long as-” She broke off, looking down before continuing. “My parents are usually at home. They’re just away on business right now. They’ll be back today. Can you let me go home? ” She faltered as the obvious lies fell from her lips. Frowning, Twisted Fate took a closer look at her face. Her gray eyes were dull and lifeless, her blonde hair hanging matted and limp on her back. Her right eye was twitching and her face was so thin. She needed food, yes, but she also needed something else. Twisted Fate recognized the shaking and cold sweat as the typical symptoms seen when consulting with a Shimmer addict. Great. He’d brought a broke, starving, druggie into his home and let her bleed on his bed. And where were her parents? He decided not to press the question, considering again to just let her go.  
But I won’t get my money if I do that. And she’ll die. No she won’t. Yes she will, and you know it.  
He was suddenly aware of her eyes watching him, waiting for a response, and… was she sizing him up? He almost laughed. In her state she wouldn’t be able to walk 5 steps, much less take him on.  
“You’re staying here until I get my money. In the meantime, let’s eat dinner. It’s late.” He saw her gray eyes widen at his words and she slowly shook her head  
“That’s… very kind of you, but I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want me here. I can’t accept the hospitality. I’m leaving.” She struggled free of his grasp and, using the doorframe as an anchor, she pulled herself a few steps without collapsing. He let her try to walk away, and was surprised when she got more than 5 steps before slipping and falling. He caught her for a third time, and grinned.

“I’m not letting you go. I need the money, and you need to eat. I know you think that Shimmer will keep you alive but it really won’t. It’s a common mistake. My parents don’t live in this city so you needn’t worry about them. You’re staying here until we figure out what to do about the money. You don’t have a choice, you can’t go anywhere.”

How did he know about the Shimmer? HOW? I’m escaping: I can’t trust this guy. I just need to find some gutter and sleep this off. I’ve got to get out.

Without warning, she bit down on his arm, hard. He let go with a yell, and she took the opportunity to dive across the floor, burning her arms on the wooden floor, and with one final leap, she vaulted through the glass of the window, landing on her front in a dark alley.

Perfect. He’ll never see me in the darkness.

Strangely enough, the sharp, stinging, slice of glass through flesh was a welcome distraction from the need for Shimmer, and for once, she felt real again. Her mind clear from the pain, she pulled herself to her feet, only to feel strong arms wrap around her neck, suffocating her. She started to cough, frantically clawing at the arms to free her neck. She recognized the stench of unwashed man from the car, filling her nose as black spots filled her vision.  
“You’re not getting away this time, girlie.”


	4. Chapter 4

Twisted Fate leapt out of the window, landing on his feet with a catlike agility. Janna was nowhere to be seen.  
Shit. What have I done. She’s going to die and I’m going to get beat up tomorrow. I have to find her.  
Squinting his eyes in a futile attempt to see in the cloaking darkness, a glint of red caught his eye. Moving closer, he saw that the glass on the floor was stained with blood and that two large footprints lead away from it. Heavy duty boot prints. Janna hadn’t been wearing shoes: lack of self-concern seemed to be characteristic of her.

What have I gotten myself into?

Sighing, he started to consider a course of action. The adrenaline pumping through his veins told him to run after the man, but the logical part of his mind told him that he’d have a better chance of finding her premeditatively: ironically, in anything other than gambling, Twisted Fate’s instinct wasn’t especially good. He tried calming the adrenaline fueled part of his mind that was trying to convince him that running after her was the best idea, using the clear, proven logic to convince himself that a plan was the only way he’d get her back. The logical part of his mind won the battle, and he climbed back in through his smashed window. The girl’s debt to him was becoming larger and larger the longer they were in each others’ presence.  
Maybe I can use that to my advantage.

Once inside, he sat down on his bloodstained sheets, and thought about what to do.

Not again. Please, PLEASE not again.

Janna reawakened to find herself gagged with her hands and feet bound to a chair. Her neck throbbed from what she was sure were bruises from being strangled. She was in a room filled with what she assumed was furniture, under dust covers. It was vast, and she didn’t see a point of entry (and therefore exit). A strangled sound escaped her mouth in a futile attempt to cry for help. Her mind was filled with a terrified panic, and she had a pounding headache whose every beat seemed to chant:

Shimmer... Shimmer...SHIMMER...  
Please I can’t die here. PLEASE.

A tear escaped the corner of her eye as her hands shook in their bonds, her fingernails scraping against the wood of the chair. Around her, objects morphed into visions of sobbing monsters with eyes made of a spectrum of bright colours. They advanced on her, and she could do nothing as they thudded closer, and closer, until something within her snapped and she released a tempest, knocking them off of their feet and breaking her bonds. Everything around her was morphing into strange shapes with violently bright colours swimming over their skin and in their eyes, but she managed to pull herself to her feet, gripping her chair tightly.  
Her legs shook and her muscles couldn’t grip anything. She needed Shimmer. She sighed wistfully and looked around, trying to focus on something, anything solid, but everything was fluid, like sand slipping through fingers, the walls were sand, slipping through her vision. Her subconscious pulled one memory to the front of her mind: she remembered how, just before her abduction she had felt so clear from the pain of the slicing glass: it had superseded the pain of her addiction.  
Wildly, she looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon. She was desperate, she would do anything to save herself, including damaging her already scarred body. She found a nail lying within her reach, and without further hesitation she proceeded to drag the sharp, rusty tip across her wrist. Scarlet blood poured from the gaping wound, pulsing as her heartbeat, and everything but the pain cleared from Janna’s mind. All thoughts of her parents, the drugs, the panic, everything went away, even if only for a short time.

It worked. I can finally leave.

She crept forward, ducking behind furniture, trying to ignore the voices that whispered in the back of her mind. The dark voices, telling her she was worthless, that she should die: her life had no purpose, and that in the greater scheme of things, her feeble attempt at existence was futile. And she believed them, but forced them back with a great deal of self-control, thoughts for another time, another place. In her current, clear mindset, she could prioritize, but there was a terror within her of a time when she would not be able to think so logically, and she knew that that day, in need of Shimmer, starving and already half dead, she would be no more.

I guess you could say that that I’m motivated to escape, even if my only purpose is to find Shimmer.

She pressed her hand to the fresh wound, and a sharp stab of pain filled her mind. Lowering her wet hand, her eyes finally focused on what could only be an exit. She ran as fast as she could towards it, dodging the bulky shapes that adorned the room. When she reached the door, she reached tentatively towards the knob, expecting it to be locked, but the knob twisted easily.

This is too easy... I wanted so much for this to be an escape, but it’s not.

She wanted to break down and cry. Why was it that the only times that she could see with clarity were those when she had gone to extreme measures out of despair. At one point she had even drunk a full bottle of Shimmer to forget. The corrosive substance had burned her from the inside out, and she was convulsing for days, but at least she was feeling something. The sharp pain of a blade slicing her skin gave her a similar, but weaker, clarity. It was an adequate substitute until she could get back to her Shimmer. Janna prided herself on not being one of the Shimmer addicts who was obviously an addict: if she looked like one, nobody would trust her near their shop, or their purse. So, however exhausted she was, however much she itched for the drug, or for sleep, she forced herself to create a mask of normalcy for the outside world to see and judge. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be able to create such a mask on the inside, hide your subconscious self from your waking self.

You’ll never be granted that reprieve. The closest you can get is a semblance: drugs and blood are your only mask, and those can be broken through easily enough.]

Shaking herself from her reverie, she took her hand off of the knob. She turned around and looked around for an exit. Luckily, she had trained her eyes to be keen: it hadn’t been a choice, more like keen eyes were the difference between life and death on the streets of Zaun. Her eyes caught a glint in the corner of the room, and she looked up to see a window. Closed shut, and grimy from disuse, but a window all the same. Janna’s heart leapt, and she rushed towards it, before nausea overcame her, and she fell to her knees retching painfully. Stabbing pains shot through her body and she was incapacitated. It took all of her willpower not to scream.

The pain receded, and she managed to stand up, albeit painfully. She was running purely on adrenaline now, and she stumbled to the wall, her weak arms shaking to pull her diminishing weight up onto pieces of furniture. She finally reached a height where she was at eye level with the window. She collapsed in exhaustion, her weak body unable to move.

I give up. I GIVE UP.

She couldn’t run any more. Her spirit and body were agreed on that.  
I guess there just isn’t a point to this anymore.  
In her state of waning consciousness, her last wishes were for an end to the misery that was her life. She was sick of the constant switch between terror and numbness. She wanted to live again, not a half life, not a tainted life of addiction and death. Sighing, she was pulled under and knew no more.

Twisted Fate groaned. He’d gotten no sleep during the night, his suppliers were coming today, and he knew who’d taken Janna. He also knew that getting her back would be suicide. Warwick. He’d been an okay guy before that scientist had tried to do god knows what to him. He’d turned insane, a raging, unpredictable man/ wolf, whose ruthless lackeys would carry out his every command. Sighing, Twisted Fate decided to give up hope on getting the money back, and went to open up his shop. As he was pulling up the shutters, a thought struck him.  
During his travels, he had happened upon a shady game of cards in an alley. Young and foolhardy, he had thrown all of his money into the game, and lost it all. He had then gone up to the man who had won the money, and demanded a rematch. The man’s eyes glinted ruthlessly.  
“You won’t get your money back, but tell you what. If you win this match, I’ll owe you a favour. Anything you want. Eh, kid?” His rough voice was not unkind, but there had been a hint of underlying menace. Twisted Fate had agreed, and won the game, but had told the man that the favour wouldn’t be repaid yet, not until he really needed it. The man hadn’t looked ecstatic, but he’d agreed to it, and told Twisted Fate to start asking around for Malcolm Graves, and it’d get around to him. Twisted Fate had been dubious, but had let it go as he had been grateful to escape alive with all of his limbs attached. Now he reconsidered the offer.  
Wandering out into the street, he locked up his store, resigning himself to another profitless day. He’d return to meet the suppliers in the evening. He saw authorities ‘patrolling’ the streets. Everyone in Zaun knew that the authorities were a joke. They did nothing to stop crime, and they only stopped people to extract ‘fines’. But asking them seemed worth a try.  
“Excuse me, I was wondering if you’ve heard of Malcolm Graves?” he asked a nearby officer who was lounging against the wall outside his shop, ogling the legs of a girl who couldn’t have been more than 12, and who was evidentially a prostitute. He’d started early on the drink as it would seem, Twisted Fate watched him set aside his beer, and watched carefully as the man’s expression changed from boredom to suspicion. The officer turned slowly to look at him, and said in a quiet voice.  
“How do you know about Graves. That’s a top security investigation, the common folk aren’t supposed to even know he’s here!” Raising his eyebrow, Twisted Fate took in the information.  
Great. A wanted, top security level criminal. Smooth TF.  
The officer was glaring at him accusingly. Twisted Fate inwardly groaned, and explained:  
“Well, you see I was wondering if they had informed the lower level officers of the current situation, as my division deals with misinformation. I’m glad to hear that they’re informed you well. I’ll just be on my way now.” He stood up as straight as possible, entirely aware that his clothes looked nothing like those of a senior officer, and more like those of a gypsy. He turned away and walked as fast as he could without running. Only when he had concealed himself in a crowd of people, did he slow down.  
The encounter had told him one thing. He wouldn’t find Graves by asking random passer-bys: he’d have to find someone who specialized. Behind the casino that he frequented, there was an alley of people dealing in goods and information that were shadier than one would find in a casino. They usually gave you two options: you could gamble them for an object, or information (the more valuable the object, the higher the stakes), or you could pay straight up. Certain vendors gave you a third option too: Pay up or die, then leave without your purchase. Needless to say, it was always a good idea to go back there armed. Unaware of the peril Janna was in, he headed back to his shop to prepare himself for the evening to come.


	5. Chapter 5

Janna awoke with a start as a bucket of what felt like ice water was poured on her head. It chilled her already weak body to the bone and she was tied to the chair once again.

This can’t be happening. I was so close. So, so close. To freedom, of either the physical or emotional connotation of the word.

“You’re a troublesome one, aren’t you?” a smug voice came from behind her. She whipped her head around to try and face her captor, but he stood so that she could not.

“I had to come and deal with you myself. I was most displeased with the ways in which you treated my guards, but I won’t try and disguise my happiness in finding a beautiful, young street child with magic to experiment on. This is amazing news, for both me, and my… benefactor. We’ve already seen an example of techmaturgy and magic mixed, in Orianna, but she wasn’t there in the flesh for us to experiment on, you know.” She knew he was grinning, his voice more chilling than the water that drenched her, as he continued “You’ll be so much more fun.” She cringed. All of those years, running from people like this, as a child, and she’d been caught now? It just didn’t seem fair.

I suppose one of the cruel gods must have it in for me. What have I done to deserve this?

And he’d spoken of Orianna. The name was widely known throughout Zaun, as her father, the “brilliant” techmaturgist had brought her back from death to be a fighter like she’d always wished to be. Or so he’d have people believe. Janna had heard whispers that said otherwise. Orianna had tried to commit suicide: her father wouldn’t let her dance, wouldn’t let her be herself, and had locked her up. No longer able to stand it, she had tried drinking a foul poison, but had failed, and remained on the brink of death, comatose. Her father, unable to believe what his daughter had tried to do, had performed a delicate surgery including the transplant of her brain into a metal automaton’s body that had been, in some bout of twisted humour, given the shape of a ballerina. Something had gone wrong, and although the robot had the brain of a human girl, it was programmed as a battle droid would be, and wanted only to destroy. Her father, in order to aid this false battle lust, had provided her with a ball that obeyed her every command. The real Orianna was rumoured to be aware of what she was doing, but unable to control it, confined within her own mind, forced to serve the whims of a killing machine. Janna had never paid much heed to the stories: why would she, they didn’t affect her, but now she feared the same, if not a similar fate to that of Orianna.

 

She heard footsteps as her captor walked around the chair and into the light. Upon seeing his face, she shivered. It wasn’t an ugly face, per se, but when he grinned, his teeth were large and curved, like those of a wolf. His green eyes were wild, and animalistic, taking in every aspect of her with one, sweeping gaze. 

I feel violated... Please tell me he’s not going to do what I think he might. People have gotten close to that too many times. Please no. 

Her heart was pounding wildly with her terror. He advanced towards her. 

“You’re mine now. Don’t you think I should... mark my territory?” He growled. 

Janna had heard that Warwick was like a wolf in many aspects. She had never imagined that it would go this far. Her eyes widened, but she was too weak to fight. 

What came next was too horrible for her to describe. She blacked out as soon as he got close enough for her to smell his breath, and awoke in agony. She bit her lip hard, to draw blood, and stifled a scream. Warwick was still standing in front of her. She instinctively knew what he had done. She cringed, and tried to rid herself of the feeling that it was somehow her fault. She felt filthy, and it wasn’t the kind of filth that could be cleansed by water. She felt dirty from the inside, and it was the worst feeling she had ever experienced. She had to get out. She needed Shimmer, now more than she ever had. She needed it to burn the filth from inside her, she needed it so that she could forget, she needed it so that she’d never have to feel this way again. 

 

Twisted Fate wandered past Shimmer dealers, and beggars. He wandered past people selling colourful vials and deceivingly white tablets, past people who had been surgically altered beyond recognition, and mercenaries, willing to sell their allegiance. He asked one of them if they knew where he could find Graves. The man snarled and stood up. 

“For all I know, ye could be from the government, ye could. Why d’ye needa know where Graves is at? I could get in trouble, y’know, what’s in it for me huh?” he growled, spitting on the floor at Twisted Fate’s feet. 

“Look, Graves owes me. I can’t exactly tell him what I need if I can’t talk to him, now can I.” He explained in a low undertone, wary of any eavesdroppers. 

The man considered him for a moment. 

“Ye got any gold on ye?” he asked, appraisingly.

“Do you really think I’d be looking to waste my favour if I had gold?”

The man shrugged. “How ‘bout that dagger ye got hidden under yer cloak, huh? Maybe I’d tell you where ‘e was, if you was to give me that.” Twisted Fate rolled his eyes, unwilling to play the game of bargains and chances with this man. 

“Tell me where he is or I’ll-” Twisted Fate broke off mid sentence as a familiar face emerged from the shadows. 

“Thought I recognized you, kid. So, you’ve decided to call in that favour. When I heard that someone was asking about me I thought it might be you, but you never know. What can I do for you?” He grinned, a cocky smile, his bulking form making large dancing shadows on the wall in the candlelight. 

“Thank you, it’s err... nice to see you again as well Mr. Graves. My favour is rather large I’m afraid. About a day ago, a girl crashed into my store, smashing my most valuable items, and then almost killing herself. I had intended to make her pay for the items that she had destroyed, but unfortunately she spent every waking moment trying to escape from me. It soon became clear that she was a Shimmer addict, and homeless. I decided that she would work in my shop to pay off her debt, but she escaped, and was thereafter taken by someone. I suspect it was Warwick. My suppliers are going to kill me if I can’t pay them back, and they’ll beat me up and shut down my store if I don’t promise to pay them back soon, which I won’t be able to do unless I have help in the store.” He explained, as quickly as possible. Graves let out a deep chuckle.

“A girl walks into your store, and you didn’t bed her? You really are a strange one. I think you’re smitten, but then again, it isn’t really my job to help you with your relationships. I’ll find ‘er, but gettin’ into Warwick’s place ain’t gonna be easy. Yer comin’ with me too: Warwick’s gots lotsa little projects, I don’t want’ta take the wrong’un.” He grinned.

He can think all he wants about what I may or may not feel for Janna. I’ve talked to her all of one time, when she was trying to escape. Smitten? I think not. I’d better go with him though. I need him to get the right girl. 

“Alright, when do we leave?"

“Now’d probably be best: Warwick likes to play with his food before he eats it if ye know what I mean. We should make sure to get there before the main course.”

Twisted Fate groaned inwardly, and cringed at the thought of what might have been happening to Janna.

“Let’s go.”

Not again. Please don’t do it again.

Janna squeezed her eyes shut as the footsteps came closer and closer once again. This time she wouldn’t black-out: he’d injected her with something to make her aware of every action performed on her. She braced herself, and was greeted with the burn of steel on flesh.  
“We’re going to have so much fun together, my sweet.” The sickly voice came from in front of her face, putrid breath filling her nose and making her shudder.   
The blade sliced the skin of her legs, warm liquid pouring down her legs and dripping onto the floor with an increasing rhythm.

drip.....drip....drip...drip..drip.drip dripdripdripdrip

Another on the other leg, just for symmetry, she supposed. Although she was awake and feeling the pain, acutely so, her vision was morphing from need for an escape. The pain would have dulled the need for Shimmer, but for the fact that she was not inflicting it upon herself. The intoxicating quality of slicing herself open to feel was not just the clarity of the pain, but also the control she had over it. Only she could control where it cut, and how deep. And now, with the blade slicing her legs and her arms until there was no part of them not covered in blood, she had no control over her future. Images flew in front of her eyes, of her parents, of Jinx, the wild little girl with whom she had been friends, of Zyra, her orange eyes glowing as she laughed, and last of all, the concerned face of the man whose shop she had destroyed. 

The last thing she heard before she went under was a manic laugh, the sound of a gun firing, and the giggle of:   
“I accidentally did that on purpose.”


	6. Chapter 6

Although Twisted Fate had resided in Zaun for quite some time, he had not had much reason to travel through the dark sewers in the dead of night. The experience was a new one and not extremely pleasant: the smell of the sewer was something he had hoped never to have to inhale, but there he was, wandering the sewers with a notorious criminal who would occasionally chuckle to himself. 

Well he’s laughing... I guess that means we’re safe?

He almost crashed into said notorious criminal as they came to an abrupt halt next to a door that was almost concealed by grime and dust. 

“I haven’t used this entrance in a long time. I’m glad to see that no one else has either, it means we’re safer.” Graves rumbled, still laughing to himself.

“Alright, let’s go.”  
Graves stared at the door for a moment, before hoisting his massive gun onto his shoulder. He shot 3 successive times, and the door crashed open. A crash sounded from inside of the lair. Graves frowned as though the sound was familiar. He mouthed something before crashing into Twisted Fate and knocking him to the floor. Two seconds later, a huge rocket blasted through the door. The strangest part? The rocket had a rider. Her blue braids whipped out behind her as she laughed a laugh of pure insanity. The limp body in her arms was immediately recognizable as Janna. Twisted Fate struggled against Graves’ immense weight to get to her, but by the time Graves let him up, the rocket was long gone, along with its two riders. Graves grunted and stood up.   
“Jinx. That vixen’s in town again.” He growled. 

“Jinx? THE Jinx? Second only to you in criminal records? Second highest bounty in Runeterra? Why is this so much more complicated than it should be?”

“Your girlfriend there’s got some weird friends. Where’d she come from anyway?”  
Twisted Fate paused, thinking. He realised he had no idea where the street urchin had come from, who her parents were, nothing. He grimaced.

“I don’t actually... know. I kind of didn’t have time to get to know her: she was unconscious most of the time and trying to escape the other half. The only thing I got out of her was her name: Janna, and the fact that she’s addicted to Shimmer. It wasn’t hard to tell, really.” 

Graves looked at him with raised eyebrows.  
“We’ll never find her if you don’t even know where she lives. I agreed to do this for you, and I’ll honor that agreement, but can’t you give me something to go on man?” 

“I think her parents might be dead if that helps...?” He responded doubtfully. 

“Okay. I have a plan. I’m going to talk to some of my contacts here, I’ll try and find Jinx’s whereabouts. You do some research on your girl, and find out if it’s really worth finding where Jinx is, as well as making sure she’s not being tracked.”

Sighing, Twisted Fate agreed. Evening was drawing near, and he still didn’t have the money for his suppliers. Groaning, he nodded, and they left the sewers before parting ways. He wandered back to his shop, arriving just before nightfall. He grabbed his last bottle of whiskey and drank as much as he could take. When the suppliers arrived, and he drunkenly told them that a “hot chick ran off with his money” they beat him senseless and gave him a week to get the money before they killed him. When he awoke in the morning, hungover and aching, he could hardly remember the night before, save for the fact that he had a week to find Janna, and to find someone to lend him money. He figured he only actually needed half the amount that they were asking for if luck was on his side and he could double it in the casino. 

 

What the actual fuck?

Janna woke up to the sound of rockets firing. She was lying on a cold stone floor aching all over. She tried to get up, and winced. It felt like every inch of her body was on fire. And she needed Shimmer. It was all she could think about. 

Fuck the pain. I need a hit. 

Clenching her jaw, she pushed herself up, oblivious to the blood that began to trickle down her legs. Her vision spun and she almost vomited. Grabbing the nearest railing, she steadied herself. She regarded her surroundings and gasped when she realized that she was on a roof looking over the city where she’d grown up. 

How do I get down. HOW DO I GET SHIMMER?

It was then that she realized that the railing that she was grabbing was not a railing but an arm. 

Shit.

She turned around cautiously to face a familiar face. Blue braids and pink eyes, Jinx was staring at her with eyebrows raised. 

Jinx?! I haven’t seen her since I was... 7?

“Janna, I have two questions for you. Why the fuck are you standing up, and why are you shivering like it’s midwinter?” She frowned. Jinx had known her before her addiction. It was going to be difficult to explain it to her. She knew that Jinx had been in town about a year before, but other than that she’d heard nothing. All she remembered about Jinx is that she’d been a master pickpocket, and a wild childhood friend. She’d always been an enigma, absolutely insane at times, and dead serious at others. She’d loved rockets too. She’d always been as fascinated by them as Janna had been by old books and magic. Now she actually had a rocket launcher and was using it to terrorize the streets where Janna lived. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. 

“How did you find me, Jinx? Long time no see I guess?” She replied, desperately trying to avoid the matter at hand. 

Jinx looked at her skeptically. “Stop avoiding the question. I was following you because I was in town and wanted to say hi. I’ve been busy. Why are you up and shivering.” Jinx asked her, even though it was obvious that she already knew the answer.

A pained expression crossed Janna’s face. “Shit happened Jinx. Life’s been hell and I did what I could to make it better.” She said.

“How the fuck is getting addicted to the chemical equivalent of battery oil making it better Janna? You aren’t getting near that stuff. I swear. You need some food right now. Then we’ll talk.” She glared at Janna as though daring her to oppose her suggestion. Then she set a plate of gruel down in front of Janna, gestured to it, and watched her gulp the slimy substance down. She refilled it twice before she was satisfied that Janna had eaten enough.

“Gods that was sooo boring. Can we do something fun now?? Drink this, we’re going shopping.” She shoved a red potion into Janna’s hands, tapping her foot impatiently, her small hands picking at the metal of her rocket launcher. She whispered quietly:

“Don’t worry Fishbones, I don’t like Pow-Pow more... SHH you can’t tell him that okay?” 

As she caressed her gun. Janna came to the conclusion that she was in the company of an insane master criminal who wasn’t letting her have Shimmer. And she felt sick. So, so sick. The food hadn’t helped, it had made her feel worse, and it was everything she could do not to vomit it back up again. She couldn’t stop thinking about Warwick, the terrible things he’d done, the burning, the clarity of a blade, the escape from Shimmer. Her frail hands shook as downed the potion. A sickly sweet flavour filled her mouth and it was all she could do not to fall to the floor retching. The potion helped with the bittersweet pain though: cuts healed so that they looked a few days old, bruises faded, blood stopped flowing from open wounds. Jinx wasn’t looking at her: she was focusing on the rockets that she was firing into a shopkeepers window. Janna took a deep breath, her illogical, raving mind telling her there was a chance that it would work. She crept to the edge of the building, and, squeezing her eyes shut stepped over. Her front faced the nearing floor. She braced herself for the impact, regretting her decision more and more as the distance between the ground and her body decreased. Suddenly, the ground stopped getting closer and Janna gasped as a cushion of air supported her.


	7. Chapter 7

Twisted Fate wandered aimlessly through the twilit streets of Zaun, an almost-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was never going to find her. His business would be gone, and his inebriated mind drifted through thoughts of what Warwick could have done do Janna, what Jinx was doing to her, if she was even still alive. If only he’d been more careful with her when she’d first burst into his life. A mist of self-loathing descended upon his mind, and he he hurled the bottle away from himself. A stifled yelp met his ears, and he was suddenly alert again. There was a flash of white at the corner, and without thinking, he took off after it.   
It’s her.  
Why, or how didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting to her. Getting to her, and then...  
And then what?  
Would his own problems disappear?  
Would hers?  
Why did he think that he would suddenly be able to handle her addiction, and self-destructive tendencies?  
He decided he’d figure it out along the way.   
He sprinted with newfound energy, only to find her crouching like a stray cat, cornered in an alley, eyes wide and terrified. When she saw him, her eyes widened further, but her distrustful expression did not change. Her clothes had claw-like tears in them, and were stained with dried blood. He could tell that healing potions had been used on her, but evidently they hadn’t done enough for her: fresh blood was seeping through her ragged pants, blossoming out over other stains as she panted. He rushed over to her, and caught her as she collapsed. She was shaking, and so, so light. The reality of the situation kicked in, and he started running as fast he could towards his home, Janna in his arms. 

 

Janna:   
She woke up in a vaguely familiar setting, everything aching, her head pounding with only one goal: Shimmer. The need had been suppressed a bit by the gruel that Jinx had made her eat, but now it had come back with a new bite to it. She groaned, her mind already trying to formulate an escape plan. She sat up, feeling bandages wrapped around her legs, torso, and neck.   
Torso? Does that mean he...?  
Brushing aside all speculation, she tried to sit up. Fiery pain shot through her limbs and she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming  
“Something wrong?” a deep voice asked, a hint of humour in the tone.   
She groaned and turned around, albeit painfully, to face the man. His golden brown eyes held a hint of concern as she grimaced from the pain.   
“I’m fine. Can I please go home?” she asked, almost pleading.   
“First things first, I’m Twisted Fate, also known as TF. Secondly, you owe me a lot of money, and I need all of it by Friday. In case you weren’t aware, it is now Sunday. 5 more days, and we need to cough it up, or they’ll take you a place that a pretty girl like you really wouldn’t want to be. So, either you pay upright, 7000 gold, or I have an alternate proposal. But it requires mutual trust. I can’t have you running off looking for Shimmer. We can figure out your substance abuse problems later.” The gravelly voice had taken on a serious tone.   
Shit.  
“I don’t have any money.” She said, her voice nearly breaking with desperation.   
“Mortgage your house and pay it back later. That should cover it.” He said, as if negotiating a deal.   
Stop here. She pleaded silently, before mustering the courage to answer.   
“I um... I don’t... I don’t have a home. I’m homeless. I’m a street rat, the likes of which you’ve never seen before. I’m an homeless, orphaned, addict with nothing to her name but the clothes she’s wearing.” She shrugged helplessly. It was all out now. Let him do what he might with it.   
His eyes were looking at her, calculating.   
“Well, let’s see if we can’t change a few of those things. My proposal: I have a tiny little bit of money stashed away. I’m a gambler, but I’m not as lucky as the big shots. My issue? Theatricality. So, we’re going to train you up today, you’ll be my assistant, and tomorrow, we’re going to make all the money. But, since you still owe me money, you’ll be working as an assistant in my shop for an undetermined amount of time, until I’ve made at least the same amount of profit that I lost. You get to stay in my home, eat my food, and we’ll work on the addiction. How’s that sound?” he added as an afterthought, “It’s not really as though you have much choice...”  
Everything about it sounded good, except for the part where she’d be living off of someone else’s hospitality at the expense of her drug. Frowning, she weighed the odds, before coming to a solution: she’d take him up on the offer, and sneak out for her hits.   
“Fine. But I want a small cut of the pay.” She negotiated, deciding that she would at least get something out of it.   
“Depends on how it goes. I’ll give you some pay when we’re done, if all goes according to plan.” He said. She could see it now: he had the cold, calculating eyes of a gambler when negotiating. She knew what was in store for the day. If she was supposed to be an “assistant,” she was basically supposed to be a stripper. She was supposed to distract the other players, so they wouldn’t be able to focus.   
Ha. Good one. Look at yourself Janna. Look at yourself.  
Her hair was limp and stringy, the shadows under eyes were nearly black. Her skin was stretched across her bones, and she was paler than snow in midwinter. And she was wearing rags.   
“Sorry, Twisted Fate, I don’t see how you’re going to train me as your...” she paused, “‘Assistant.’: I look like shit, and I feel worse. And I only have these clothes, which as you might be able to tell, aren’t in the best condition.”  
He regarded her with a look that said “Do you think I’m stupid?”  
“I’ve got a few ideas. First, the clothes. I might have something in the shop. Secondly, you need a bath, and I think I stock some make- up in the shop. You need to look like a real vixen, and then we can train you on how to be an active distraction.” He said, looking her up and down in a way that was no where near Warwick’s predatory gaze. She shivered at the memory.   
She followed him into the shop, and to a rack of clothing that looked like it was designed for a less than sanitary business. He shifted through the colourful outfits, and pulled one out.   
The dress was essentially transparent, with strips of white material just barely covering the places that mattered.   
“That’s not a dress. That’s lingerie.” She told him, hands on hips.  
He winked and said “That’s what I was going for.” She felt a blush rising on her cheeks.   
“You can try it on after your bath. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” She followed him to the back of the shop, and to the end of the hallway, where a wooden door lead to a small room, with a sink, toilet, mirror, and bath. She hadn’t been into a real bathroom since before her parents deaths. Of course, she’d used some public toilets when they were available, but she hadn’t had full use of bathroom facilities in a long time. She usually just bathed in the buckets of rainwater that people collected outside of their houses. He showed her the soap and shampoo, as well as how the water worked, and gave her a toothbrush before leaving her in privacy. As the water filled the tub, she pulled off her ragged clothes, and then gingerly unwrapped the bandages from around her torso, and her legs. The new cuts from the bottle glass had almost healed, no doubt due to the use of healing potions, and her other injuries were essentially healed. Of course, she’d have scars, but nothing that she hadn’t expected. Her ribs were painfully visible and stuck out, as did her collarbone and hips. Oh well, it’d look decent in that sorry excuse for a dress that TF had picked for her. Twisted Fate. She didn’t quite know what to think of him, but she was sure that she’d form an opinion after the night was over.   
After she had bathed, she didn’t want to put her dirty rags back on, so she wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out.   
“TF? TF could I have that dr-” he rounded the corner and almost ran into her. She jumped back, almost dropping the towel. He frowned, taking in her attire, before understanding dawned on his face, and he walked away, rummaging for a few moments before returning with the dress and the accompanying undergarments and make-up. She walked back to the bathroom, where she pulled the dress on before realizing that her hair was still soaking. An idea began to form in her mind, and she grinned.   
She looked within herself, bringing up feelings of rage and sorrow from the past week, and shaping them into a funnel of wind which she directed at her hair. The blast of wind almost knocked her off her feet, and rattled the door on its hinges, but her hair was dry. She stared at her fingers, awed by what she had done. She frowned at the various tubes of make-up, never having been taught how to wear it. She considered asking TF, but decided against it, telling herself that it couldn’t be that difficult. 

It was that difficult. 

There were so many different colours, so many different types. She’d seen people on the streets wearing this stuff, but she’d never been in a situation that required it. She could guess what the individual products were for, but she didn’t know what colors to go for. The dress was white, but she was going for something distracting, so she went for black, first lining her eyes with a pencil before adding more layers of black and silver. When she finished with everything, she walked out to check what time it was. TF was idly sitting on his couch, lounging aimlessly. Janna walked over, craning her neck to see his watch. He turned around and almost jumped off of the couch.   
“Janna, what the hell? You walk like a freaking cat!” He was shocked, but his expression changed when he took in her appearance.  
Eyebrows raised in approval, his eyes swept her body appraisingly. She felt a strange urge to cringe away from his predatory gaze but she’d faced worse than this golden-eyed gambler on the streets, in the alleys, underground, anyway she’d been able to get a job. Her eyes narrowed and she let him look a moment longer, before asking: “When are we leaving?” He didn’t reply, and suddenly she was no longer letting him look. She slapped him in the face, not hard, but enough that he felt it. His eyes shot up and his hand flew to his cheek. His affronted face was so funny that Janna couldn’t help but laugh out loud, a small bubble of laughter escaping her bow lips.   
“What’s so funny?” He asked, frowning. She shook her head, unable to stop laughing. Wave after wave of happiness consumed her. She hadn’t laughed of her own accord since the day of her parents’ death: she’d only had Shimmer-induced laughter.   
Stop laughing, Janna. He probably thinks you’re totally into hurting him. Sado-masochism and all that bullshit. Ugh, does he think I’m into him? That wasn’t supposed to indicate attraction.  
She argued with herself. all the while studying his face as he watched her with sheepish apprehension. There was something in his eyes, she couldn’t quite place it, but it was definitely not cold or calculating: a warm emotion that she’d never seen directed at her before.


	8. Chapter 8

Alcohol and sweat. These were the smells that hit Janna as the duo entered the club. A wave of heat hit her as she left the perpetually twilit streets of her hometown and entered the scene. The air was choking and pungent, loud and busy, but it quieted down when they entered. Twisted Fate was dressed in his regular clothes, but his expression changed completely when they entered. His face clouded over and became unreadable, save for a telltale glint in his golden eyes. She’d heard it being referred to as a “poker face” and she could see why. She became uncomfortably aware of male gazes on her skin, but she forced her face to become a mask. She knew the drill. Amaze. Trick. Cheat. Report. Repeat.  
She realized it was a dirty business, so she wasn’t about to complain about TF’s preferred method of money making, so long as it got her out of this mess. A few minutes of mingling with the crowd made her extremely conscious of the battery-oil fumes that filled the air. Shimmer.   
Shit. Not here, why does it have to be here, dammit, I need it. I was going to wait until he trusted me.  
The all too familiar pulsing began again, and she shook her head to be rid of it. Her entire plan would be ruined if she allowed herself to be ruled by this terror.  
Twisted Fate:  
Something was wrong with Janna. She’d been fine on the way there, she’d been fine as they’d entered, but the all too familiar terrified look covered her face again now. She was almost shaking but managing to remain composed as whatever demons plagued her tore at her from the inside. She looked at him, her eyes flitting back and forth in terror. A wail tore through the air from somewhere in the crowd, and he realized what the issue was.   
Shimmer. Some idiot is dealing that shit in here? This could be a potential disaster unless I do something about it.   
He had no idea what to do. Getting her out seemed like the safest option, but also like a way to lose any chance at a profit. Frowning, he thought about it. Drastic times called for drastic measures, and he was very desperate for his money. He didn’t fancy being beaten to a pulp by the collectors for a second time. Should he threaten to deliver her to the buyers? Bribe her with money? Should he attempt to soothe her? He quickly decided against the latter: his “people skills” left something to be desired, however he needed a solution, and fast.

Meanwhile:   
Graves:   
He hated making deals. Hated them. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to offer that stuck up kid in the alley a favour?   
Then again, it’s making things a whole lot easier for you, isn’t it?  
“Stupid Graves, you’re an idiot” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.   
He’d been searching non-stop for Jinx, although he wasn’t really certain he wanted to find her and relive their awkward parting. Damn Twisted Fate and his stupid girlfriend. He wandered down the alley, not even trying to be discreet: he knew Jinx wouldn’t appreciate him being quiet and a “sissy” by her reckoning. He heard her before he saw her, her manic giggle sending chills down his spine. He felt an irrational fear creep through his bones, but stood his ground.   
“Jinx.”  
“Graves, it’s...interesting, to see you again.”  
“Cut the bullshit Jinx, what mangled game are you playing at here?”  
Pouting her lips and staring off into the distance in a mockery of deep thought, she drawled in lazy fashion “I’m back to see a friend. I’m almost certain you know who that is, you and your big man gun games, surely you understand. You’re back too. Why might that be?”   
He frowned, trying to think of a believable lie. “I’m running from the law. They’ve been picking up their slack recently and I needed to lie low” he grunted out. She turned to him and rolled those pink eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. You’re so full of shit Graves, I know about the deal. Don’t you dare insult me like that. I know what you were planning, and I stopped it. Did I hurt your poor little man-ego? Sowwy.” She sing-songed before glaring into his eyes with a rage he didn’t know such a simple being could possess.   
Play dumb and get the fuck out Graves. She knows, she doesn’t care if you had a choice or not. Threaten her, then go and finish your job.  
He returned the glare, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going back to see my dear friend, Twisted Fate, to see how much success he’s had. You’ll see that friend you were visiting soon enough, don’t you worry.”   
He began to turn away, but before he had taken three steps, he heard a rocket firing. He jumped out of the way, but she was smart. He’d forgotten just how smart. She’d known he’d jump there, and the next rocket hit him squarely in the back. He hit the ground with a thud and groaned. Before he could even reach for his gun, she’d snared him and was approaching.   
“Don’t ever mention Janna again. You’re not worthy.” She unlooped a coil of heavy duty cable from her belt and began to tie him up. Her knots were surprisingly efficient and tight, while also more complex than what he was used to.   
Is she just going to leave me here? I can get out if she does.  
Before he had more time to think on the matter, however, he heard her loading her rocket launcher.   
“You’re coming for a ride with me, trust me it’ll be fun.” She giggled, her eyes alight with a manic fire. In any other situation, this would have been incredibly hot, however here it only built nervous, helpless, anticipation. He felt himself being tied around a large cylinder.   
Fuck. Is she serious? I’m going to die. FUCK.   
That eerie giggle filled the air again, and the sound of a rocket firing could be heard. Graves’ stomach was left behind in the alley as his body was lifted into the golden-grey twilight, accompanied by Jinx’s gleeful shrieking and giggling.   
“We’re going to expooooose you. We’re going to saaaaave Janna.” Was she... singing? It didn’t really matter now, did it?


End file.
